Porcelain
by IMarriedDavidTennantInMyMindAndBecameATimelord
Summary: Lady Mirabelle is constantly being badgered by her mother to find a respectably (and rich) husband. Mirabelle believes in marrying for love or not at all, she finds every possible way to irritate her mother. One day she meets a mysterious blue-eyed stranger, and embarks on a wonderful, fantastical adventure, changing her view of the world, and herself.


Lady Mirabelle let out a decidedly unlady like grunt as her corset was tightened with a harsh pull from her mother. She winced in her head preparing for her mother to add that to the never-ending lecture already spilling out of her mouth.

"I honestly don't know why I even bother trying with you, you obviously enjoy dragging our family name through the mud. I beg you and I beg you, but you can never do anything right," Emeline paused for breath and tugged sharply on her daughter's corset again.

Seemingly not noticing Mira's lack of air problem, she started to lace up the back. She went straight back into her lecture as she tied a tight knot at the top of the corset's back, "Do you even _realize _how important it is that you make a good impression. This is the third potential suitor you've frightened away. Lift your arms so I can get you're petticoat on, don't you give me that look. I'm starting to believe you wish to die an old maid all alone. Well I've got news for you dear, It's not up to you if Lord Frederick finds you suitable you shall marry him."

She helped Mira pull her dress over the layers of petticoats and adjusted the folds so that they lay smoothly. She walked briskly to the door and made as if to walk out, then turned and opened her mouth as if she might say something, instead she shook her head and said," Be downstairs as soon as you've done something with your hair. The Lord will be here any moment."

Mirabelle rolled her eyes the second her mother was out the door. She swiftly plaited her hair and tied it with a discreet white ribbon. She allowed herself a quick peek in the mirror, already knowing what she'd see. Her dress was made of a plush velvet and it was a deep blue with white lace trimmings. Her hair, a fiery tangle of curls, contrasted starkly with the dress. She shook her head knowing her mother had wonderful fashion sense but feeling as if her mother only picked it out to match her eyes, also a deep cerelean blue. She looked beautiful, she always did. It was a burden she didn't want. Maybe if she were ugly she could scare off potential suitors without all the hard work. She stuck her toungue out in the mirror, hoping greatly that Lord Frederick hated blue eyes. She left her chambers and started down the stairs, all the while bemoaning her fate. Her mother wouldn't rest into she saw her married off to some pompous, air-headed pig full of himself with a fat load of money. She scowled knowing her mother wanted only money and didn't care if her daughter had to live unhappily the rest of her life because of it. She stepped into the sitting room to see her father and a large dark haired man rise to their feet. The man, Frederick, walked over to her and gave a slightly dramatic bow then placed what was obviously meant to be a charming kiss on the back of her hand but what instead felt like he was trying to eat her fingers. Her parents left the room, her mother with what could only be interpretated as a warning raise of her eyebrows.

Mira pasted what she hoped was a welcoming smile on her face and tried to discreetly wipe the back of her hand on her dress. "Hello, you must be Lord Frederick," she gave a little curtsy her mother had made her practice for hours, claiming it was endearing. "I've heard so much about you."

He looked pleased, "Of couse you have milady, people tend to talk about me a lot. One can not blame them though, for I am surely worth talking about." He tilted his head and smiled at her, clearly waiting for her to agree wholeheartedly.

Mirabelle's tryed her best to keep a smile on her face. She'd given him a chance, she'd ignored his sloppy kiss and his dramatics, but she couldn't stand people who were vain, she liked putting people in their place. Especially when those people acted as if their place was to be better than everyone else. "My Lord, but of course, why it was not even a day ago I heard a villager talking about how lucky you were to have so many servants in you're bed." She smiled innocently.

From the look on his face you'd have thought she'd struck him. He tryed to laugh it off, but the anger was clearly evident in his eyes, "Silly girl," Mira's anger flared into a white-hot rage. He continues obliviously, "Obviously you can't believe every word you hear. Especially if it comes from some filthy peasant not worthy to mention my name. He was quite obviously envious of my wealth and the fact that I will soon have wed the most beautiful bride in the land."

Mirabelle tried to contain her rage at being talked about as if she were an object, a prize, but when he reached towards her hair and brushed a stray lock behind her ear saying as he did so, "Your hair is such a lovely color, shame about the fact it is as knotted as a briar patch, and looks just about as pretty, when you are my wife you will have to learn to maintain it somehow." She pulled back from his hand and slapped him, actually _slapped_ him right in the face.

She stared, bewildered, at her hand unable to believe what she'd just done. She also couldn't believe it when Lord Frederick pulled back his arm as if he were going to hit her back. She covered her face with her arms and flinched away, waiting for the blow. Only it didn't come, there was a loud crash and Mira's eyes flew open in shock to see what had happened. Her hand fluttered to her mouth in horror, Lord Frederick was lying on the ground holding his face and trying to stop a scary amount of blood from gushing out of his nose. Standing above him and looking as if he was contemplating hitting him again, was an angel, or in Mira's mind a man who _should_ be an angel. His hair was brown falling down to his shoulders in mangled waves, his eyes were a blue so dark it was almost impossibly to actually distinguish it as blue. Right now his strong jawline was clenched in fury, he looked down right scary. Mira backed away slightly thinking, _okay so maybe a _dark_ angel. _She let out a frightened gasp. He looked over at her, his eyebrows raised in surpirise as if he had forgotten she was there.

"My apologies milady, If you will wait patiently I will see to you in a moment," he said, his voice rumbling deeply.

She flushed, staring at the ground. What was wrong with her? He'd only said a few words to her. She was still backing away, making a quiet retreat, when the back of her legs bumped into a chair. She sat down gratefully, as her legs were a bit unsteady. She looked over to where her saviour and Frederick were to see Frederick on his feet, weaving unsteadily.

He glared at the man who had shown up out of no where, "Who in da hell do you dink you are?" He challenged in a nasally voice, "maybe you dund know dit, bud you jud broke da nose of a Lord. I can have you hanged." He looked as smug as someone with blood pooring down their face can look. Her dark angel was unperturbed.

"My Lord, my deepest apologies," he said with sarcasm dripping from every vowel, "I entirely forgot to introduce myself, I'm Prince Josef. I don't believe it's commonly accepted in society to strike a woman, do you?

Lord Frederick blanched, his face draining of all color, he tried to stammer out a reply, "Your Hi...High...Highness," he swallowed and started agin with slightly more composure, "Your Highness, dis woman druck me fird and I was simply defending myself, surely dat does nod deserve any such punishmend as being brudally beaden, does dit?" He gave a wavering smile, obviously thinking he'd outsmarted the prince. He actually looked a bit smug before he jumped at the sudden snort of laughter from the prince.

"Oh please, what kind of man are you?" Josef inquired, trying to stifle his laughter, "Brutally beaten? I hit you all of once and you went down like a sleeping cow, and as for self-defense I doubt this slip of a girl caused you much pain. Not to mention I couldn't help over-hearing your conversation and if she hadn't slapped you I was ready to myself." He sighed exasperatedly, "Just leave this manor and I believe it's in your best interest not to return."

Before the rest of the sentence was out of his mouth Frederick had scurried out of the sittingroom, clutching his nose all the way. The prince turned towards Mirabelle, who immediately dropped into a low curtsy. She kept her head bowed, hoping he didn't notice the look of irratation that flashed across her face.

"Your Highness, I thank you for your services." She met his eyes to realize with a jolt that he was staring at her quite intently.

"You are displeased," he stated, not as a question, but as a fact. "Pray tell milady, what have I done that might have possibly displeased you so?"

She flushed knowing that she'd been caught, then flushed again, knowing his observant gaze saw everything. The result causing her to a rather embarrasing shade of pink. She straightend her shoulders, knowing she didn't look any less like a child. She hated being seen as a child, and even more so, being treated like one.

"My Prince, of course I am nothing but grateful to you, for surely Lord Frederick being such a large man, that blow would have hurt dearly." She reassured him.

"And yet it would seem as if you would have rather taken the blow," he retorted. He glanced over his shoulder to see Lady Emeline charging through the door like a bull on a rampage. He lowered his voice, "Perhaps Lord Frederick was the least of two dangers. No matter, just watch dear girl, I'll take care of this to."

Mira scoffed. How dare he treat her as if she were a little girl. He was right though, people were always protecting her and it drove her mad. How was she suppose to show everyone she was a grown woman, if she couldn't even take care of herself? She watched as he talked with her mother, trying to calm her. He gave a bow and smirked, clearly convinced his charms were unable to be denied. Lady Emeline was a force to be reckoned with though, for she refused to be swayed from her rampage. Mira took a vicious, and perhaps childish, pleasure in watching her mother scream at him. The prince was visibly confused, not knowing how to deal with an outraged mother. If her mother screamed any louder she would be able to hear at least half of the coversation.

Sure enough it wasn't long before she heard her mother scolding the prince, "I don't care if you're the dearly departed King himself, risen from the grave! You just ruined my daughter's last chance at finding a suitable husband, at this rate I'll be lucky to get a merchant to marry her!"

The prince stammered, too low for Mira's ears to catch. Her mother wasn't having any of what he was trying to feed her though, "This is my manor and I shall let in it whomever I please! Do you understand that one, Your Majesty? No one bans anyone from my manor except me. If Lord Frederick thought my daughter deserved a good thrashing, then he was only too right!" Emeline stopped, breathing heavily. Mira sighed knowing the prince had probably suffered enough and decided to stop her mother before she had a aneurysm.

She braced herself before throwing herself at her mother, sobbing quite convincingly, "Oh, it was terrible Mother. I simply asked Lord Frederick if he'd like to stroll in the garden, and he laughed at me saying if that was what I called a garden then I was sorely mistaken. I was of course insulted, for I know how hard you work on it, and I rightly told him so. I didn't expect him to hit me," she cried. Lying through her teeth she finished her wild tale with, "why if the Prince hadn't shown up I don't know what would of happened."

Her mother's gaze darted to her daughter, whom was sobbing into her hands and making quite a show of it, to the prince again. As if she were reluctant to let him get away with sabotaging another possible future husband.

"Well," she started slowly, "it would seem as if it's hardly your fault Your Highness. Once again my ignorant daughter has botched things up. If you would forgive me my temper, but do tell, what brought you to our manor to begin with?"

Mirabelle glanced through her fingers, expecting the prince to be relieved that he'd been let off the hook, instead he look angry. His expression was dark, and she couldn't fathom why.

He gave a forced smile at her mother and said, "Lady Emeline, surely you have heard of the serfs disappearing? Have you not recently lost one yourself?"

Emeline flushed, embarrased that she had forgotten. Mira's handmaiden, Greta, had recently disappeared, everyone but Mira thought she'd run away. She'd been a good friend to Mira since they'd both been little girls. They had very similar looks, both having copper hair and pale complexions. The used to play that they were twin sisters, undeterred by the fact that Mira was a Lady and Greta her servant. Yet Mirabelle knew that Greta had always been there for her, and that she would never leave her willingly, especially to do something as foolish as try to run away. It was the law of the kingdom that runaway serfs were to be punished harshly. They were almost always caught, making any attempt to escape foolhardy.

Mirabelle couldn't stop heself from asking hopefully, "Have you found her?"

The prince looked over at her, surprised, having once again forgotten she was there. "Lady Mirabelle, we're trying very hard but as of yet we haven't found anything. Perhaps you should go to your chambers and not worry yourself with such affairs," he suggested, completely unaware of the storm he'd just brought down upon himself.

"But of course my Prince," said Mira, her voice like ice, "and perhaps you would do well to remember I am of age at seventeen years. You might also remember it is _my _servant you have yet to find. Perhaps instead of meddling in other's affairs you could do your job instead."

She felt the prince's bemused gaze follow her as she stalked out of the room. _Good, _she fumed to herself_, I hope he's quite pleased with himself. _She went up the stairs and with an angry huff threw herself onto her bed. She tossed about trying to get comfortable before giving up and properly preparing herself for bed. She shedded her many layers of clothing and put them up in her wardrobe, then donning a simple flannel nightgown she brushed out her tangled hair. Looking in her vanity mirror she frowned, perhaps her hair _was_ a mess. Maybe she should try to find someway to manage it. With a sigh she blew out her candles and tucked her self under the duvet. Hoping that when she woke in the morning her troubles would be over.

As fate would have it, Mirabelle had no such luck. She opened her eyes, blinking at the bright sun streaming in through her window. She rolled over in her bed in an attempt to go back to sleep, only to be roused by a soft hand on her shoulder.

"My Lady, your mother requests your presence in her chambers." The words came in a soft voice, that tinkled musically.

Mira sat up rubbing her eyes to try and focus on where the voice was coming from. Standing in front of her was a slight girl who looked to be no more than twelve. She had the prettiest eyes Mira had ever seen, they were kind, a compassionate grey. She felt as if she could watch the girl all day, for everything about her was dainty and pleasant. She had golden hair, and skin like warm caramel. She was at the moment ruffling through Mirabelle's wardrobe, perhaps looking for something to dress Mira in.

Her thoughts stopped cold, it felt as if someone had pured a bucket of ice water down her back. _Why_ was the girl here?

"Excuse me," she said politely, "but who exactly are you?"

The girl turned from the wardrobe with a slightly apprehensive look. "My name is Rose My lady. I am to be your new servant."


End file.
